Fairytale Of New York
by Tehri
Summary: Arthur decides to accept Alfred's invitation to spend the holidays at his house; but is it a good or bad idea? -- Don't ask about the T-rating...


**Author's Note: Hey, guys! :D I thought I might as well write a Christmas fanfiction for once... Now, bear with me, this is my first Hetalia fanfic (although more are to be expected). It's very rushed (written in half an hour xD). Anyway. The song that I use here, and which inspired me to write this, is "_Fairytale of New York_" by The Pogues. Merry Christmas, everyone!!**

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* * *

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"_It was Christmas Eve, babe,_

_In the drunk tank._

_An old man said to me:_

_'Won't see another one'._

_And then they sang a song,_

_The rare old mountain dew;_

_I turned my face away,_

_And dreamed about you..._

_Got on a lucky one,_

_Came in eighteen to one._

_I've got a feeling,_

_This year's for me and you._

_So happy Christmas._

_I love you, baby!_

_I can see a better time,_

_When all our dreams come true..."_

_

* * *

_

Arthur sighed quietly to himself, gently cradling his still untouched glass of whiskey in his hands. He wasn't entirely sure about why he had poured himself a drink and still not even moved to take a sip. Normally, it would already be all gone, and he would've poured himself another one, and another one, and then he'd be completely wasted. The whiskey (an early gift from his older brother Scotland) was certainly not bad; he knew his brother's taste in this sort of liquor, and it was never bad. But he couldn't bring himself to drink it. It was two days left until Christmas Eve, and he was sitting at home, all alone with alcohol as his only companion. And that was how it would remain if he didn't decide to do something completely unexpected.

He remembered that Alfred (no, no, America) had invited him to spend the holidays with him in the States. But as usual, Arthur had only scowled and left the younger nation without any answer.

"It's just Christmas", he told himself bitterly as he continued to stare into the amber liquid in his glass. "It's not such a big deal. Relax, you old sod, it won't kill you to spend it alone. Again."

_But you even got him a gift_, a little voice muttered in his head, and Arthur could almost swear on that he saw a miniature version of himself sit on the edge of the glass and glare at him with emerald eyes. _What was the point of getting something for him if you won't give it to him?_

He bit his lip. The Miniature Arthur Kirkland/England/United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland kept glaring accusingly at him, and the words did make sense (even though he still tried to figure out why he saw miniature versions of himself when he wasn't even drunk.

"_I would be glad if you could come, you know_", Alfred (no, _America_) had said with his usual trademark grin. "_It can't be much fun to spend Christmas all alone, right? Besides, I won't have much to do otherwise, and I can fix everything. You can just sit back and relax and drink tea and solve crosswords, or whatever you do._"

Yes, maybe it _would_ be fun... And he _did_ need to get out of the house, didn't he? Get away from his own country and instead visit his old colony for once. Without being a Grinch. Or Scrooge. Or whatever. He had finally reached the point where he didn't care about classics.

"Get out, Arthur", he groaned before quickly putting down his glass and getting out of his comfortable armchair. "Get out and go and visit Al- _America_ for once. It _is_ Christmas!"

So it was that he, completely unexpected, showed up on the doorstep of Alfred F. Jones the day before Christmas Eve, blushing furiously as the younger nation opened the door while not wearing more than a t-shirt and a pair of boxers.

"Arthur", Alfred exclaimed happily. "You came!"

The hands that grabbed Arthur's were warm and strong, and it made his inner miniature self chuckle.

"Yes, I came", he muttered, pointedly looking to the side. "I wouldn't want to be alone on Christmas Eve, you dolt..."

He didn't get to say something more, because Alfred dragged him and his bags inside before shutting the door. The older nation sighed in relief when he felt the warmth inside wrap around him as a blanket – then he felt a pair of strong arms that slipped around his waist, clutched around him and lifted him up in the air. While laughing happily, Alfred swung him around.

"I almost thought you wouldn't come", he chirped, not realising that he was almost crushing Arthur's ribs in his bear hug. "I thought you were going to be the world's biggest Grinch and stay at home all alone and sad, and I would've gone there and dragged you out anyway, because-"

"**AIR!**" Arthur gasped loudly and whacked his former colony on the back of his head to make him let go. "You're crushing me, you wanker! Put me down!"

A pair of sky blue eyes blinked, and the considerably stronger nation put down the smaller one, who glared daggers at him with a pair of glinting emerald eyes.

"Ah, sorry about that", Alfred said with an embarrassed smile. "I guess I don't think about my strength..."

Arthur just waved away his apology with one hand before ridding himself of his coat and scarf; it was cold _outside_, not inside, so he didn't exactly need these clothes. He looked around a little before noticing that Alfred had grabbed his bags and now hauled them towards the stairs.

"I can carry them myself, Al- America", he said quickly, but Alfred only grinned at him and lifted one of them to rest on his shoulder.

"It's fine", he chuckled. "I'm the host, and the hero, so I should carry your bags anyway."

Arthur stared after him, not noticing until now that Alfred must've been working out a lot... Bloody hell, even his _butt_... No. No, that was not something he should think of, not at all... Blushing heavily, the Englishman moved towards the stairs as well (while keeping his eyes on something else than Alfred's butt). But he was already imagining himself touching those muscled arms, and... And kissing him. What would that be like...? Would he taste like coffee and hamburgers, or...

"Stop it, Arthur", he mumbled to himself while trying to make the blush disappear. "You're a gentleman, and you took care of that boy when he grew up. For God's sake, you're not _France_..."

* * *

"_They got cars big as bars,_

_They got rivers of gold;_

_But the wind blows right through you,_

_It's no place for the old._

_When you first took my hand on a cold Christmas Eve,_

_You promised me Broadway was waiting for me!_

_You were handsome!" "You were pretty,_

_Queen of New York City!"_

"_When the band finished playing, they howled out for more!_

_Sinatra was swinging, all the drunks they were singing._

_We kissed on the corner,_

_Then danced through the night!"_

_And the boys from the NYPD choir_

_Were singing Galway Bay,_

_And the bells were ringing out_

_For Christmas Day..._

_

* * *

_

The evening settled quickly, and Arthur decided that it was about time to go to bed. He left the already half-asleep Alfred on the couch with the TV on and slowly went up the stairs to the guest-room. He had spent most of the time downstairs trying to stop glancing at the younger nation, who had all the while been chattering happily about what had been going on lately and at the same time watched a movie. And at the same time, the golden-haired youngster had kept moving closer to his old caretaker, who had pointedly moved away in order to keep the distance as big as possible without offending the host.

"That idiot", he muttered to himself as he closed the door to his room and began to unbutton his shirt. He was tired and felt confused, and the only thing he was certain could help was sleep.

The clothes were quickly shed and neatly folded before he placed them on a chair and went into the bathroom. He looked at himself in the small mirror, almost glaring accusingly at his own reflection.

"Pervert", he muttered to himself. "You're nothing but a sodding pervert. How could you think of such things, and about _him_? You used to call him your little brother, for Pete's sake..."

The little Miniature Him was back, standing on his shoulder this time.

_It's not by blood_, the miniature said. _You only _called_ him your little brother, that doesn't mean that he is. He's not a child anymore; you've seen that much. He's a strong man now, and a very handsome one at that. Why not admit it? That muscular chest, those strong arms..._

"Shut up", he growled quietly at the Miniature. "He's not handsome. And he's not muscular. It's fat. He's gotten flabby."

Even as he said those words, he saw himself raise an eyebrow. That was such a pathetic excuse... With a deep sigh, he washed off, glared at his reflection some more and then left the small bathroom. He needed sleep, and it was best to get it now. Crawling under the covers, he curled up with a quiet sigh. It was either going to be a tough Christmas Eve, or it would all go fine, without any sort of perverted thoughts or anything of the like...

Arthur found himself wake up in the middle of the night, not completely certain about what time it was. What he _was_ certain about, however, was that he heard sobbing, and that a very familiar voice called his name between hiccups and sniffles outside the door.

"A-Arthur! Wake up, please! Please, let me in! I'm scared! Please!"

With a quiet groan, the Englishman got out of the bed and stumbled over to the door to open it. And just as he expected, there was Alfred F. Jones, the Mighty America, the unbeatable United States of America. Crying like a little girl.

"P-please, can I come in", he whimpered. "I'm... I'm scared, and..."

Arthur rolled his eyes and stepped aside, letting the younger nation come into the room. But he didn't close the door.

"It's your own damned house, America", he growled. "I doubt that there are any ghosts here. Will you kindly go back to your _own_ room and go to _sleep_?"

A pair of wide sky blue eyes stared at him.

"B-but..." Another sniffle. "I... I don't want to be alone..."

"Oh for... I can't believe you, you bum!" Arthur was aware of that he hadn't intended to shout or call the younger man names, but it just happened; and Alfred just stared at him in confusion with a hurt look in his eyes. "You punk! Will you just get back to your own room already?! I want to sleep, Alfred, is that so bloody hard to understand?! I'm _tired_, and you _woke me up_, you _WANKER_!"

And with those words, he threw the younger nation out from the room (admittedly, he more _pushed_ him out – Alfred was too big to throw) and slammed the door. He heard a low whimper from the other side, but ignored it and instead went back to bed.

* * *

"_You're a bum, you're a punk!"_

"_You're an old slut on junk!_

_Lying there almost dead on a drip in that bed!"_

_"You scumbag! You maggot!_

_You cheap lousy faggot!_

_Happy Christmas, you arse,_

_I pray to God it's our last!"_

_And the boys from the NYPD choir's_

_Still singing Galway Bay,_

_And the bells are ringing out_

_For Christmas Day..._

_

* * *

_

The first thing Arthur noticed the next morning was that he had forgotten to close the curtains, so now his retinas were getting burnt in a lovely way from how the sun reflected from the snow on the windowsill. The second thing he noticed was that he was warmer than he should have been, and that something heavy rested over his chest. He groaned quietly as he tried to get his eyes used to the light and blinked slowly. He placed his hand on whatever it was that rested on his chest. A hand. An arm. He blinked again and turned his head, only to find himself staring at the sleeping face of a certain golden-haired nation who was apparently hugging him in a rather possessive way while sleeping. For a moment, he saw his own miniature version of himself sit there on Alfred's shoulder while smirking at him.

_See, he came here anyway_, it chuckled. _And he's warming you with his own body, isn't that sweet? And you're blushing, Arthur. Not out of embarrassment, I might add._

"Shut up", he mumbled as he attempted to make the younger man move his arm a little. "Of course I'm embarrassed, what else...?"

A yawn caught his attention.

"Mnh... 'rth'r...? Who're ya talkin' to...?"

_Oh, lovely_, he thought to himself as those sky blue eyes peered at him without probably seeing him.

"Where are your glasses", Arthur asked, almost as a reflex. "Texas", he sighed as he only got a confused frown from the younger nation. "Where did you put Texas?"

"D'no", was the intelligent answer. "D'wnst'rs, m'thinks..."

The older man rolled his eyes and swatted at his former ward's arm.

"Move", he muttered. "At this rate, I'll die slowly from suffocation. Your arm is heavy, you dolt-..."

He blinked. Those beautiful eyes seemed to focus all of a sudden, and now they locked with his gaze. There was no sign of sleep in that intense gaze, and now Alfred sat up and firmly planted his hands on either side of Arthur's head before he leaned in and eyed him carefully.

"Okay, so now I'm at least certain about where you are", he said with a smile. "Now, I want you to answer a simple question without trying to weasel out of this." He tilted his head, and for a moment his smile reminded Arthur of Ivan... "Why did you snap at me? I didn't do anything bad, so it must be something about you, right? What's wrong?"

Arthur blinked.

"That's not _one_ question, you git", he muttered and looked away. "And I don't know why I did that, it just happened..."

"Am I _that_ horrible to be around, Arthur? Can't you stand being near me for a few days without snapping like that?"

Another blink. The words weren't spoken with much force, but instead Alfred sounded... hurt. Slowly, Arthur turned his head again and looked into those eyes (oh, those _amazing_ eyes), a feeling of guilt washing over him.

"I..." It was suddenly hard to find words. "I don't... I mean..." He groaned. "Alfred, please, stop staring at me like that, I can't _think_ straight, and, and, and you're only wearing _boxers_, a-and you're _on top_ of me, and it's really embarrassing, I can't _think_..."

He slapped his hands over his mouth. The heat that then washed over his face told him that he was blushing, and that his skin was most likely beet red right now. And those amazing blue orbs just widened and stared at him before the distance increased a little.

"Did you just say..."

Arthur bit his lip, mentally cursing himself. He was certain that he could see that damned little Miniature laugh at him.

"I... I'm sorry", he whispered. "I know I shouldn't have shouted at you... I just... I don't know, it just happened... A-and... What I just said... Uhm..." The blue orbs came closer. "I... W-well... Y-you were awfully close... And... And you were staring, and oh God, you're, you're awfully close again, and, and, please, stop...."

Alfred started to smirk as he looked into Arthur's deep emerald eyes; it seemed that he had already guessed what was going on.

"Well, _you_ stared at me a lot yesterday", he murmured softly as he leaned in. "Especially when I carried your bags upstairs. I never knew you were like that..."

Arthur blushes and sputtered, attempting to shove the younger nation off of him. But Alfred being Alfred, he merely chuckled and leaned even closer.

_Too close_, was the only thing Arthur managed to think before that last inch suddenly disappeared and the golden-haired superpower crashed their lips together in a kiss. For a moment, Arthur was dumbfounded, desperately trying to make his thoughts catch up with what was happening. But the younger man did not move away; instead, he took the opportunity and prodded lightly at Arthur's lips with his tongue, and slightly confused as he was, Arthur did not try to stop him from going even further.

They stayed like this for a moment, but then Alfred carefully broke the kiss and smiled down at the smaller man.

"Look up at the roof", he whispered.

Emerald eyes blinked and slowly peered up; above the bed hung a very familiar herb, a mistletoe. Arthur sputtered again and blushed furiously.

"You planned this", he growled and glared at the young man who now laughed at him. "You planned this all along, didn't you?!"

"Perhaps I did." Alfred grinned mischievously. "So what? It's not a very bad way to start the holidays, right?"

And with that, he leaned in and kissed Arthur again, in such a passionate way that even France (the King of Passion and Perverts) would be rendered senseless.

"Merry Christmas, Arthur", he whispered when they broke apart to breathe properly. "I'm really glad you accepted my invitation... I've almost been dreaming about this, you know. Then again, most of my dreams are about you nowadays..."

And all Arthur could do was to blush, mumble a "merry Christmas, Alfred" as an answer and think that maybe, just maybe, this wasn't such a bad idea after all...

* * *

"_I could have been someone..."_

"_Well, so could anyone!_

_You took my dreams from me,_

_When I first found you..."_

_"I kept them with me, babe._

_I put them with my own._

_Can't make it out alone._

_I've built my dreams around you..."_

_And the boys of the NYPD choir's_

_Still singing Galway Bay..._

_And the bells are ringing out_

_For Christmas Day._

_

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**Not dead yet? Then please, take your time to write a review, even if it's only a "meh"-comment. ^^ I would appreciate it. Merry Christmas!**  
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